Page 121 of How to Walk Away

I blinked. “ThisMonday?”

He nodded.

“So that means you’re going—when?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Panic. I genuinely could not imagine my postcrash life without Ian in it. It was too pathetic to say out loud, but he was just about the only thing in the world that made me anything even close to happy. My whole life was in black-and-white until he walked into the room—and then everything bloomed into color.

Losing Chip? I had barely blinked. Losing Ian right now? I could barely breathe.

“You’re going to be all right, you know. You’re a lot stronger than you think—”

But before he could finish, I did something that shocked the hell out of both of us.

I said, “Marry me.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

It was kind of a great idea. “Marry me,” I said again, “and then you can stay.”

“You want me to marry you?”

I nodded.

“For a green card?”

“You want to stay, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s sunny here, and the people are friendly, and we have tacos. Do they have tacos in Scotland?”

“They do have tacos in Scotland,” he said, “but they’re not the same.”

Why were we talking about tacos?

I went on. “I had this great idea a few weeks ago about opening a summer camp for kids in wheelchairs.” I was thinking fast now. It was all coming together in my head. “Maybe we could do it together—build it and run it, I mean. We could be partners. You could mastermind all the PT stuff and do your thing and get all outside-the-box, and I could do all the fund-raising, and we could create, like, just, a utopia for kids who’ve seen so much pain—with a garden, and a wheelchair racecourse, and a splash park, and movie nights, and popcorn, and juggling classes, and cookie baking, and Pop-A-Shot, and therapeutic horseback. And a choir!”

I was on fire now. I went on, “We could have classes for adults, too, in the winter, and hold retreats, and sponsor art fairs and teach adults crafty things, like how to knit slugs, and help create a source of light and hope and connection for people who really, really need it. I know you kind of lost interest in your other business, but this would be different.”

I had some momentum now. I could see this idea really working.

Plus, and this is not a minor point, I was utterly, breath-stealingly in love with him. It suddenly seemed like I needed to tell him that. Whether I was ready to or not. If he was leaving the country in the morning—if I was truly never going to see him again—how could I let him go without stepping up and speaking the truth?

I’d done a hundred brave things since the crash, but I swear, not one of them was as scary as this.

“Ian,” I said then, my breath swirling cold in my lungs like water. “The thing is, I’m in love with you.”

Ian held very still.

I watched his face for some kind of response. Was this good news to him or bad? Was it something he’d been hoping to hear—or hopingnotto hear? Most likely, of course, I was just a sad, shriveled client to him. But those kisses—those heartbreaking kisses of his—had given me a spark of hope I couldn’t ignore. I had no idea how he really felt, but there was no time to guess. He was too good at being unreadable.

Without a response, I just pushed on. “Like crazily, swooningly, heart-burstingly in love. Like the kind of in love I didn’t even know was possible. The kind of in love that makes every other emotion look tiny and dollhouse sized. The kind that feels like sunshine and fills you up with excitement somehow—even when there’s nothing to be excited about. The kind that makes everything better—no matter how bad it is—and even utterly ordinary things like brushing your teeth feel tinged with magic.”

It was hard to know how strongly to state my case. I could also have said,I think about you at night when I can’t sleep.Or,What I felt for Chip never even came close to what I feel for you. Or,You are the best thing in my life.

The longer he didn’t respond, the more I felt like I should push even harder. The more I felt like begging. I came very close to saying,Please, please marry me. It wouldn’t have to be love!I’d take him for less than that. I’d take him for friendship. I take him for anything—just to keep him close.

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